


The Mercenary

by mr_ite



Series: The Jenova Project [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Novelization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-25
Updated: 2006-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26273866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mr_ite/pseuds/mr_ite
Summary: This is a novelization of Final Fantasy VII. The primary source is the original US game script, and the manuscript has been updated throughout the years with elements I liked from the Compilation -- some, not all. This version also includes one or two things that I liked from the Remake*. My hope is that strangers to Final Fantasy can enjoy the original story with no prior knowledge needed, and returning readers can enjoy a fresh lens, like re-reading a book you've never read before. "The Mercenary" is the first of five books; it covers the story of Midgar and the attacks carried out by the terrorist organization Avalanche.*The version on ffnet predates the Remake and won't be updated going forward. This is ver.2.3
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife, Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Series: The Jenova Project [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908955
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

In a tower of pearlescent white, an aging middle manager sat in his very own corner office, staring down through his very own window. From this height, the people in the plaza below were nothing but a swarm of locusts.

 _‘Which would I hit first?’_ he thought, resting an elbow on the leather arm of his chair. _‘Terminal velocity? Or the pavement?’_ The city lights stretched like a starscape beneath him. The plaza fountain glowed in changing light.

He should have gone home hours ago. The walls of his office were sterile and white, as was the oblong metal door – a speaker box next to it chimed gently. “Yah,” he said at the door, then picked the phone off of its docking station and put it to his face – as if to speak into it. The dialtone hummed into his ear.

The door slid into the wall with a pneumatic hiss. The secretary entered with a stack of papers, file folders, and envelopes, all of which she put into his inbox. He nodded at her, pretending to listen to someone on the other end of the line. She smiled politely at him, mouthed ‘goodnight’ and left. The door hissed shut.

He hung up the phone – its cord furled and twisted. He turned his gaze back through his corner window, down upon the black city.

* * *

While waiting for the early evening shows to let out, Aeris took a moment to duck into the alley behind the theatre and watch a livewire drip green sparks onto the black brick. The embers of mako energy splashed at her feet, some richoeting into the air before fading into the dark of the setting night.

Aeris watched, reminded of stars. The bustle of the adjacent street, however, drowned out any hope she had of meditating on the subject. Cars honked. Vendors shouted. And the low, white noise of the reactors sighed beneath everything. Before she could think, her break was over.

The adjacent Loveless Theatre had previously been named something else, before the play became more famous than the space. _Loveless_ played twice daily, and had for nearly thirty years. Aeris never saw the show, but she often found herself observing the poster and wondering about the portrait character – a starving pauper girl. A particularly friendly buyer told her once that _Loveless_ was a grunge musical about a failed revolution in times long gone. That’d sparked Aeris’s interest, but securing tickets proved impossible. The show was sold out years in advance, to say nothing of the price.

She stood in her usual spot, in the mouth of the alley where the steps of the theatre met the wide promenade. She made sure the flowers in her weave basket were primly arranged. She double-checked that her pink dress was free of dust. Customers would be flooding out of the theatre soon, with hearts afire and gil to burn.

* * *

Sam eavesdropped in the locker room.

“I hope we see some action today,” the tall MP slung the semi-auto over his shoulder, its leather strap pressed tightly against the blue uniform, the barrel of the gun pointed casually at the tile floor. His helmet and mask were slumped at the bottom of his locker. “I ain’t shot a crook in a week.”

The other replied distantly, “Oh, yeah?”

They were otherwise alone, but for Sam, who they hadn’t seemed to take note of despite being here the whole time. The first MP described his latest takedown.

“This stupid kid holds up a Nightmart with nothing but a six-shooter, yah?”

The other muttered. “Y’don’t say. What, uh, one a’ those little pea shooters?”

The MP laughed. “Yeah it was. An old Peacemaker, I think my grandpa had one. Anyway, the culp ain’t ready for the gas, no goggles, nothing, so I rush into the cloud with him. He’s all stunned. I got him right through the front tooth.” He pointed towards his own face – an estimation of his bullet’s trajectory. “Fuckin’ guy splatted all over the ice cream freezer.”

“Oop, good shot,” the other MP was barely listening, having some trouble attaching his tonfa to his belt.

The change-room complex belonged to every public service employee in the sector. Police, firefighters, employees of power-plants and art galleries. Rows and rows of lockers stretched out in either direction. Long curtains along the far wall veiled the facility’s enormous group shower, and steam half-obscured the MPs to Sam (a train station attendant) who, honestly, was grateful for it.

The chatty one was the taller of the two, with a wide chest and square jaw. He looked like he might make a candidate for SOLDIER, but he’d probably already tried and failed. He coughed open-mouthed into his locker. “Goddamnit.”

“Still w’that cough, eh?” the other adjusted his right pauldron. “You see a doctor?”

The MP sighed. “Yeah, but, y’know doctors.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuckin’ guys.”

“Heh. Yeah.”

“They got all ‘em doctors using materia now,” he shrugged. “They get the job done quick, but fuckin’ sometimes it comes right back. You notice that?”

“Yeah.”

Chatty was slipping the cloth ring that served as a mask around his head – blue, like most parts of the MP uniform. When he got it over his face he pulled it down below his chin like a cowl-neck scarf so he could continue to yap unimpeded.

Sam was steeling himself to walk past them when Gary finally showed up, striding casually down the stairs. Chatty swiveled his head at the door, and then back to his buddy. And then his head shot the other way – over in Sam’s direction, as if noticing him for the first time. “Let’s hit it,” he said – the other’s response came through the cloth-mask, muffled.

They passed Gary in silence – taking two steps at a time, they were quickly up and gone.

Sam exhaled, then chided his partner. “It’s five-to.”

“Plenty a’ time,” Gary shrugged, heading to his own locker.

“You’ll miss the train.”

“I won’t, and you don’t get to tell me what to do. If I want to sit an’ have dinner, I’m gonna sit an’ have dinner, got it?”

Sam yanked his crimson cap out of the locker, closed the locker, put on the cap, and went out the door and up the stairs to the street. He caught a few breaths of stale air and tried to calm down. He looked up at the blanket of smog blotting out the moon.

It was still, and aside from the reactors’ hum, terribly quiet. He turned away from the guardhouse and towards the train station, weaving through the lanterns and shadows of Sector 1.

He pulled his coat closed. Even in August, the nights were cold, although they were never quite dark. Glowing auras of lights rounded corners, diffused by the thick haze that seemed to cling to buildings, streetlights, and sewer grates. The reactors always churned out bright green-grey smoke along the outer limits, which gave the city a soft green ceiling. At any given moment Sam could look up and count at least three reactors – Midgar had eight of them in total, tracing a wide circle around the city. The northernmost reactor towered over North Edge Station. Sam watched green embers drift from the open stack up into the clouds.

Two monodrives drifted past him – advanced surveillance drones that looked and moved like jellyfish. They were equipped with W-Laser technology, but it was no replacement for live ammo or a real person to weild it. _‘More’s the pity,’_ he thought. The monodrives never hassled him, or made him feel small.

His destination was a stone building, a few decades old, next to the trench where the train rolled through the sector. The station entrance was a doorless, arched portal leading to the ticket booth, turnstiles, and stair. His post was down and back out of the building, in the open air of the trench, at the end of the line.

Cargo trains came all the way to Sector 1 twice weekly, but Sam guarded it every day. Boredom wasn’t a problem, it was easy money.

Down on the platform, the break guards leaned against the outer wall of the station, wearing the same crimson uniform as he. They straightened when he emerged into the trench. He thought he ought to say something like ‘You’re relieved,’ or, ‘Hello,’ but he just stood there until he had to step aside to let them pass.

He was alone on the platform for a while. The trench ended on his left – a solid wall made of black brick. The tracks rolled south through Sector 1, to the center of Midgar and the tunnel that slipped underneath the city.

A free-standing steam clock marked the north end of the line. It was older than the city itself. Copper hands. Hand-blown glass. No trace of digital display. Steam still drifted out of the whistles. The steam was generated by a retrofitted mako engine – obviously – but it felt very old-world. It was ten-past eleven already.

Then Gary strutted onto the platform – again, no one said anything. They waited as the minute hand on the steam clock crept past the number II.

It was another four minutes before anything happened.

The rumbling began beneath them. It rose quickly from a slight, nervous quivering of the rails into a roar as the engine’s single headlight burst from the tunnel. Clouds of dust exploded out with the vessel’s iron nose – as if the world underneath the city was coughing up smoke. Sam heard a distant pop of air.  
The front car curved onto the flat track along the trench. Exhaust pipes wound about it. Steam hissed up out of them, obscuring the top of the train.

Sam didn’t know what else needed hauling up from underneath these days, but he kept telling himself not to worry about it. Underneath wasn’t his problem anymore. He got ready to check the ID cards of every greasy crate-hauler in that train.

It seemed the same as always, but as he looked at the oncoming engine, he felt like he’d forgotten to do something. Like he’d left the stove on. Something seemed off.

The train slid towards the end of the trench with a scattering of orange sparks. It screeched to a stop just as one of the copper hands on the steam clock snapped to III.

The brass pipes on the clock erupted with a cloud of white vapor. The loud whistle almost muted the shuffling sound.

Something moved above him.

He looked up.

A boot clubbed his temple. The full weight of a person crumpled him to the platform. His shoulder blade cracked against the floor. All the air left his body.  
His attacker stumbled but leapt off of him. All Sam could do was gasp for a breath that wasn’t coming. His mind raced. He saw a red bandana. Dirty, pale skin.

Some fucking _slumling_ had hitched a ride up to the Plate!

The door of the train car opened. The crate-haulers, they’d—

A lone woman ran out of the train, in pauldrons, breastplate, and a red bandana. She had a pistol at her hip.

He twisted on the ground. Reached for his tonfa. The woman was upon him. She was stronger. She threw him into the side of the train. His head hit an exhaust pipe.

He went deaf. Suddenly, the world was on its side. He felt warm liquid drenching his neck.

 _‘That’s… blood,’_ he thought.

Gary was on the ground too, across the platform, slumped up against the wall with his eyes wide, unblinking.  
Another figure charged out of the train – a giant of a man. His arms were as big as kegs – the sleeves of his leather jacket ripped off to make room. His dark skin was made darker by tattoos of skulls and black fire. The right arm… Sam strained his eyes through the pain. The right arm looked like it had been replaced with a machine.

Sam knew that the big man was the leader by the way he barked at the others – there were three now – the third was fat. Sam couldn’t make the words out – he just heard a gruff booming underneath the ringing in his ears. They nodded at his orders, and ran up the stairs off the platform.  
Sam’s vision cleared a little, allowing him a glimpse at the man’s artificial arm. Just past the elbow, the skin had been fused to the edge of a metal appendage – thick and straight. The end of the limb had been outfitted with six rotating chambers. Sam realized with horror that it was a kind of gatling gun.

An easy way to identify the culp. _‘I just… gotta stay awake.’_

Just when it appeared the goliath was about to leave, another figure jumped – vaulted – off the train, making a three-point landing on the platform. A messy clump of yellow hair obscured his face. He had a two-handed greatsword slung on his back. He stood before the giant with his chest up.  
Sam kept his eyes open. Hope started to return.

The blonde man looked almost too thin to be a SOLDIER. His military uniform was a deep indigo, which meant First-Class, but it was the man’s eyes that were the dead giveaway.

The cavalry had arrived.

The way the giant and the SOLDIER looked at each other, Sam expected them to attack without hesitation… A moment passed, but neither moved. Perhaps… they were old enemies? Fights like that took forever to get going.

Another moment passed. The ringing in his ears abated somewhat, although the spins got worse to compensate. He gritted his teeth, too weak to shake his head.

Then he heard the two men talking – _talking_ – to each other.

The giant huffed. “I told you, this area is clear.”

“I heard you,” the SOLDIER didn’t move.

“So get a move on.”

“Nahh.”

“Oh, ya just gonna wait for the army to come down on our heads, that it?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

The giant curled his one hand into a fist. “You some kinda saboteur!?”

The SOLDIER snorted. “Believe what you want. As long as you pay.”

Sam’s fear rose like a flame up his throat. SOLDIERs did not – could not – go rogue.

The big man puffed up his chest and seemed to grow in size. “I pay when the job’s done, and that happens when my crew—”

“Get down!” The SOLDIER pushed the giant into the wall.

A spray of bullets scattered where they‘d been standing. The two MPs arrived at the platform and rushed forward, guns reloading.

The traitor drew the greatsword from his back, arcing it over his head. The blade was uniformly thick and without a crossguard, like a giant cleaver. Two green crystal spheres glinted inside holes in the blade’s base.

A sword that big… with materia… It would be impossible for normals to wield it.

The tall, talkative MP halted, struck momentarily speechless. That was all the time the traitor needed. The sword twirled in the air as it came down.

The other MP tried to pivot and spray fire at the same time, but stumbled when the sword cleaved his partner in half. The SOLDIER whirled the blade around with the ease of a twig.

The second MP fell apart before firing another shot. The tip of the sword slashed against the wall, sending sparks and chunks of brick scattering along the floor towards Sam’s slumped figure.

Blood drenched the platform. It fell quiet again.

The Ex-SOLDIER swung the sword up again and slammed it against his back, where it held fast, secured by a magnetic harness. He looked at the giant expectedly. “Don’t tell me how to beat my own kind.”

Sam's eyes were too heavy to keep open any more… He felt his head sink towards his chest… As the world spun away from him he heard the giant's voice one last time, echoing into the darkness.

“C’mon, newcomer. Follow me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Jessie plunged her hands so deep inside the console that she couldn’t see them. She had to feel the wires, find their tags, and scan the dots with her fingers. Her Braille was rusty, she was realizing with some woe. She’d assured everyone it wouldn’t be a problem.

“Didja see that?” Biggs asked behind her.

“See what?” She’d been staring at the wall, concentrating, but with her fingers doing the searching, she was free to look around.

“Our new pal.” The red bandana had pushed his usually floppy hair up, giving his face a long, strong look. Biggs wore a confidence she hadn’t seen before. The bullet clips in his suspenders and the bullpup in his hands might have something to do with it. His eyes were glued back at the train station, but Jessie couldn’t turn her head that far.

“Kinda busy here,” she said. “What about him?”

“He…” Biggs trailed off.

Nearby, Wedge, the newest card-carrying member of Avalanche, wrung his hands. Jessie sighed. “I’m workin’ on it, Wedge.”

She swiveled back to the wall in front of her – black brick and iron. Her fingers trailed along some dots – she quickly scanned. The aux alarm? She scanned again to make sure. Yep. She cut it; the sound elicited a nervous jolt through her. Nothing happened. Good. The main alarm was next, then the gate circuitry. She was doing well. She was doing okay.

Barret’s approaching footsteps rose over the low purl of white noise that permeated Midgar. Their boss ran heavy, practically leaving impact tremors. 

“Somethin’ you’re forgetting to tell us, Barret?” Biggs asked behind her.

“I remember tellin’ you not to move in a group,” the boss’s voice boomed. 

Jessie found her second wire. Cut it.

“That merc you found,” Biggs continued behind her. “His choice of weaponry doesn’t seem _strange_ to you?”

“No stranger’n mine,” the boss retorted.

“Oh, come on,” Biggs lost his cool. “Your guy brought a sword to a gunfight, _and he won_. Normal people can’t do that. He ‘uz in SOLDIER, wasn’t he?”

Jessie almost dropped the cutters.

Wedge spun around. “SOLDIER?”

Barret grunted.

Biggs asked cooly, “Wanna explain why we didn’t need to know that?”

Their boss _tsk_ ’d. “Cause you’d wet your pants just like this, that’s why. He used to do. Now he don’t. Clear? Havin’ someone who knows the enemy is smart.”

Biggs sighed. “Smart and wise are two different things, Barret.”

“Hmph. Save your _wise_ for the after party.”

Jessie heard more footsteps behind her and she knew it was the mercenary. Her hands trembled, she took a deep breath to steady herself.

Biggs said, “Hey, uh, thanks for your help back there.”

Silence.

Biggs said again. “Didn’t catch your name.”

“Cloud.”

“Cloud eh? I’m–”

“This is a onetime gig,” the merc cut. “When it’s done, we’re done.”

Wedge gave an involuntary grunt of surprise. “Come on, bro,” Wedge urged the newcomer. “Nobody would do something this crazy just for money.”

Barret stepped in. “Enough of this. Jessie, how we doin?”

Jessie found her last wire. “This is it.” She cut it.

The iron gate before them began to grind open. Jessie brought her hands out of the console and stood up. _‘I did it.’_

“Split up,” Barret ordered. “Meet on the bridge in front of the reactor.”

The way was clear into the Shinra-only area of Sector 1. Biggs and Wedge split off from her, and Barret and Cloud stayed to exchange more words at the gate. She moved as far away from the merc as she thought she could get.

The word ‘soldier’ had been a simple word when she was a kid. She liked the shape of it, especially in Braille, the way it felt under her fingertip. Swooping and cutting.

Like a dancer. 

When Shinra Inc. started the SOLDIER program, during the war, the word changed. It became a brand. Now Jessie could only think of Shinra when she heard it. It didn’t dance anymore. It made her afraid.

She ran north through the shadows until she reached the curtain wall along the rim of Midgar. She didn’t dare walk right alongside the rim – there were laser turrets mounted atop the wall that swiveled on multi-joint limbs and could spot an intruder within ten metres. She kept distance, but followed the slight curve of the wall until she reached the north-west corner of Sector 1. 

A portico led to the suspended footbridge. Jessie stepped onto the metal grating, and the steel in her boots clicked.

A slight wind tugged at the bits of fabric not held down by her armor. She’d expected this. The only place to find wind in Midgar was in the spaces between the sectors. The footbridge crossed above a long drop into the mist.

On the far side of the footbridge, an identical portico led to Sector 8. Wedge was already over there, securing their escape route – but first, the reactor waited at the north end of the chasm.

The reactor was truly huge. It touched the ground somewhere down there, beneath the mist. The entrance was level with her, a T-junction led the footbridge right inside. That wasn’t even half-way up the structure. A huge number _01_ loomed above the yellow-trimmed entrance, and above that, the red-diamond-on-white-square logo of Shinra – as big as a house. Even higher still, brown-green embers blasted from the yawning, volcanic stack. 

The reactor hissed – a steady, low sound, like exhaling.

Barret arrived on the bridge behind her. “Look at that,” he said, but he was facing the other way. Jessie turned.

South, the chasm led to the center of Midgar, where all eight of the sectors intersected. There, the seventy floors of Shinra Headquarters rose above the city like a white mountain.

Barret rested his arms on the rail. Jessie always tried not to stare at Barret’s right arm. The gun-arm. Sometimes she failed to avert her eyes. He didn’t catch her now, but he had when they’d first met.

Cloud came through the portico from Sector 1. He brushed past them and walked north into the reactor. His sword swayed on his back, glinting a reflection of the white tower. Biggs was hot on his heels. 

Wedge stayed behind, guarding the route into Sector 8. He had a bandolier full of grenades and a pistol. Jessie said a quick prayer to no one in particular and ran into the reactor.

She found the inside far less extravagant. The room was small and thin. Barret, Biggs, and Cloud had to stand single file. On the wall beyond them, an introductory video about the benefits of mako energy occupied a wall-to-wall screen.

“The Planet’s full of mako energy,” Barret said over the canned audio. “People use it every day. It’s the life-blood of the Planet, but Shinra keeps sucking up the blood with these machines.”

Cloud waited for him to finish, then shrugged. “I’m not here for a lecture.”

Barret prickled visibly, and Jessie swore she saw Cloud smile a little.

Biggs looked at the door to the next room. He motioned for Jessie to come near. “Looks like this needs your wristy.”

The wristy had been one of her designs. Hand-held hacking devices were hardly original, but she’d banded hers to her forearm with some scrap metal and cloth, so she could keep both hands free.

She hooked the device to the console and waited for the dummy code to work. Cloud stood beside her, still as a statue. 

Barret didn’t seem to trust this guy, but if Biggs was right, he was killing Shinra for them. And he’d been vouched for…

No one was saying anything. Times like this, it was hard to push down the feeling that this was all just a terrible idea. Any moment, they could all…

“So,” she asked the merc. “You know Tifa, right?”

Cloud blinked, and looked at her. Blue eyes bore right through her.

“Not that it’s any of my business,” she put her hands on her hips and tried to look suave. “But are you guys, y’know, close?”

Cloud made a pained expression – his gaze softened, as if casting his mind back. He didn’t answer. He looked at the door. 

_‘Huh?’_ she thought. There was more silence. _‘Ah shit, I made it worse.’_

Then, in a flash, Cloud’s face popped out of its state and fixed a cool gaze on her. “Tifa and I—”

The door hissed open. There were six MPs in the room, and they swiveled in surprise at the intruders. “What the—!?”

Cloud turned on a dime and leapt into the fray. The sword was out and killing guards while Jessie was still reacting to their presence. He was a ball of sparks and slashes – enemy weapons clattered across the floor.

 _‘Oh god,’_ Jessie flinched at the blood splashing against the wall. A severed head ricocheted off a security console along the far wall.

Cloud’s blade swooped up and over, leading the wielder into a twirl with its force. It passed through an MP who fell away from his own legs, howling.

Barret charged gun-arm first into the room, looking for an opening. But none of the guards had survived the first few seconds. It was just Cloud, breathing heavily, smeared with gore. He checked the room’s corners with a military acuity, while Barret slogged to a stop in the middle.

Jessie’s eyes were trained on Cloud. His movements were precise, his eyes glinted like a wolf in a dark wood. His display made her feel less crazy for being afraid of him. Now, she almost felt relief. He’d done that… for them.

This horror, she realized, was just Shinra pointed at itself. Even if Barret didn’t trust Cloud, he was one danger up against another. In the commotion, they may well slip away unscathed…

The panels along the walls still purred with life. Biggs slid into the room and began monitoring the wall of screens.

“No alarms tripped,” he announced happily.

Barret seemed unimpressed. “Since we got this room, might as well keep it. Biggs, stay here an’ make sure we get to the core without trouble.”

Biggs put a hand on his hip, where he’d clipped his two-way radio. “And if trouble comes to me?”

“Check your other hip.”

Biggs thumbed the bullpup in its holster. “Aye, boss.”

The panels ended at an elevator. Barret walked between them, careful to bump into the merc on his way into the lift. Cloud glared at the back of Barret’s head, but was quick to follow. Jessie moved into the elevator with them.

As the door began to close, Biggs gave them a wry salute.

* * *

The elevator lurched downward, and for a brief moment Cloud could go back to concentrating. He leaned against the wall and the steel of the Buster Sword clanked against the iron of the elevator. Soon enough, though, Barret starting going off again. 

“Pretty soon the reactors’ll drain out all the life, and that’ll be that.”

 _‘Hoo boy,’_ Cloud thought. The hardest part of this job so far was the preaching. He made a point of rolling his eyes. “It’s not my problem.”

“The planet’s dyin’, Cloud! Are you gonna stand there and tell me you can’t hear it cryin’ out in pain? I know you can!”

“…You really hear the planet screaming?”

“Damn straight I do.” Barret pounded his chest once for emphasis.

Cloud smirked. “Get help.”

Barret blinked, as if slapped. He took a step towards Cloud, looming over him. His voice was deadly cold. “Say that again.”

The gun-arm clinked. Barret’s arm muscles were clenched. Cloud figured he would be making a fist if he had one. Looked like getting a rise out of this guy would be the only fun Cloud would have today.

The elevator began to slow. Cloud looked up defiantly at Barret’s intimidation attempt. “I’d worry less about the planet and more about the next five seconds. You can save the screaming for later.”

Barret’s mouth hardened – he had nothing to quip back with. He reached stiffly for his two-way radio. “Biggs, we’re at the utility access, door’s opening, what’s out there?”

 _“Three sentry rays,”_ came Biggs’ voice through the radio.

Barret re-holstered the radio and rolled his shoulder in preparation. “Avalanche don’t take prisoners,” he warned. “You read me, SOLDIER-boy? One false move, and this happens—”

The doors opened onto a sharp corner and Barret swung the gun-arm out of the doorway. His other arm came up to support the prosthetic – the bulky metal resting on the forearm. He took a split-second to aim up.

_Boom-boom-BOOM-BOOM------BLAAAAM!_

Cloud didn’t flinch. Sparks and shells filled the elevator. Across the hallway, scrap metal clattered to the floor. 

Cloud rolled out of the elevator and unclipped the Buster Sword in one fluid motion. Two W-Lasers crossed streams where he’d been standing, leaving red streaks of fire in the air.

 _‘Guess there’s no tricking the machinery,’_ Cloud had hoped the defense matrix would still consider him a Shinra employee.

He followed the trails of fire to their source - the two remaining sentry rays were mounted 3m up – too high to jump. Their swan-like metal heads swiveled on segmented arms to aim their cannon-mouths down at Cloud.

Barret’s gun-arm was deafening – a constant _chet-chet-chetting_ right behind him – intersperced with heavy rounds, concussive to his ears. Cloud brought his sword in front of his body in a defensive position. The blade would absorb most of the—

Twin W-Lasers aimed for his heart. Cloud pivoted the blade before him like a shield. The lasers belted into the broadside of the blade. He was pushed back from the force. _‘Damn,’_ he flourished – feeling the heat through his gloves. _‘Can’t do much but draw their fire.’_

Another ray succumbed to Barret’s onslaught, buckling inwards and coughing sparks. One more left. 

Barret took slow steps out of the lift, his huge frame barely recoiling from the constant fire.

Jessie raised her pistol from inside the elevator, but her shots went wide, hitting the high ceiling.

Two monodrives floated around a corner ahead – drawn by the commotion. _‘These I can reach!’_ Cloud leapt to the attack.

The drones twisted out of the way. Their tentacles drifted like loose webbing. Cloud was quicker, and the sword – which had been travelling downwards – curled upwards and sliced clean through one of the bots.

 _“INTRUDER!”_ buzzed a pre-recorded alarm from the other monodrive. Cloud heard the last sentry ray explode behind him – Barret had finished the job. 

He swung the blade again, and it grazed the dodging drone. It was enough to send it into a spin – the robot skidded across the floor. Cloud dashed after it, hacking the sword down – the impact dented the metal floor panels. Shrapnel skittered to Barret, who kicked it away.

A quiet fell around them. Cloud and Barret locked eyes.

“Well!” Jessie cut through the silence. “So much for having Cloud do all the fighting. There are some places a sword just can’t reach.”

Cloud’s face flushed. He swung the blade up over his back and checked the wreckage for valuables. An in-tact monodrive core might net him something down below, but he’d sliced them to bits. The sentry rays were likewise unsalvageable.

“All right,” Barret picked up the radio. “Any more robots headed our way?”

Cloud eyed Barret’s weapon – his true expertise was the blade, of course, but the mercenary was no stranger to guns. Except in this case. He had never seen a gun-arm up close before. Barret had grafted onto himself a six-barrel rotary cannon of black metal. It seemed to extend out of the man’s flesh. Sweat intermingled with hydraulic fluid. 

After a moment, Biggs’s voice crackled through. _“Clear for now, boss.”_

They rounded the corner onto a long staircase leading through a cavernous chamber. Jessie hurried ahead. Cloud spied the security cameras in the corners. Biggs would be watching them. Cloud raised his eyebrows at the lens.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” Barret said in the darkness.

Cloud shrugged. “I sold you my sword, not my mouth.”

“Oh, that extra? Wonder what a smile’d cost.”

“More’n you could pay.”

“Hmph. Take a left.”

They made their way down several floors of storage – Jessie overrode screens of security sensors just long enough for them to dash through before aux power re-activated them. Every now and then, they detoured to avoid workers. Cloud wondered idly if the scientists would get a chance to escape.

 _“Come in,”_ Biggs said through the radio.

Cloud reflexively scanned for any who might hear, before remembering that Biggs was monitoring them from on high, and probably wasn’t stupid enough to give away their position. He kept scanning anyway.

Barret picked up the radio. “Go.”

_“You got a big one at the base of the stairs.”_

Cloud raised an eyebrow. A big one? He slunk ahead down the stairs, against the wall, and peered slowly around the corner.

The walls here were over thirty metres high – they must be deep underground now. A stone’s throw away, something moved that looked like a tractor with feet instead of wheels. Cloud knew it in an instant.

He brought his head back around the corner, raising a finger to his lips. Barret and Jessie were a ways back up the stairs, and stopped in their tracks at his warning. Cloud crept back to them. His voice was low. “There’s a reason they call those things ‘sweepers.’ They can wipe out a whole squad in seconds.”

“Not if we wipe it first.” Barret strained his head, but there was no way he could have caught a glimpse from his position.

Cloud shook his head. “We’re talking about a heavy weapons platform. If we rush in, we die.”

Barret smirked. “S’that right?”

“Machine guns, flame-throwers, and – oh yeah – reinforced steel plating.” Cloud glanced from Jessie to Barret. “Lucky for you, I can give us an opening.” 

Cloud raised his hand to stay them, then crept back to the corner. Barret fumed at being hand-signalled like a dog, which made Cloud chuckle inside. He faced the wall and shifted ever-so-slightly, so that one eye could look into the hall.

It was idling about twenty metres away, sounding every bit like the tractor it resembled. The nose of it was capped with a grill through which exhaust crept. It shuddered – a clunky old machine. Cloud concentrated, and the materia sphere nestled in the Buster Sword began to glow.

A storm filled his mind – hot and cold forces clashed. _‘Lightning,’_ he focused. Time seemed to slow down. He felt as if he might burst – he reached out his arm.  
Around the sweeper, the air folded on itself and cracked open in a brilliant burst of lightning. “NOW!” Cloud shouted, dashing around the corner as the bolt of lightning raked around the machine.

Magic always drained him, but he pushed forward, covering as much ground as he could. Bullets sailed past him, connecting with the machine. The sweeper recoiled from the electricity – overheated. Cloud unclipped the sword with one hand as he ran.

The hail of bullets stopped. Cloud heard Barret reloading behind him. Jessie fired with her pistol – a good shot! It went right through the grated nose and lit up the machine’s innards.

As if shaking off a daze, the sweeper became still. _‘It’s fast,’_ Cloud lamented. From out of its nose, flammable gas warped the air, engulfing Cloud. _‘Shit!’_

Thanks to Jessie’s shot, some part of the flame thrower had been broken. It seemed at first like a harmless cloud of gas. All it took was a spark, however, and Cloud found himself engulfed in a plume of flame. He dropped his sword and fell forward, slamming into the ground.

He hadn’t caught fire – but pain wracked his face. He rolled – both to make sure he was really out, and to close the distance between himself and his sword.

“Damnit!” Barret shouted behind him, and let loose another volley of bullets. They connected – with some sounding like they pierced the armor – but Cloud couldn’t look. If that thing closed distance, he’d be crushed. He opened his eyes to a blurry world, and scrambled for his weapon. With it in hand, he felt his confidence surge back into him – even the pain in his face seemed to dissipate. He thanked the SOLDIER conditioning for that, and tried to circle around the back of the machine while it kept its focus on the two shooters.

Sure enough, the sweeper braced itself and set its arms on Barret and Jessie, respectively, firing loud and long bursts of heavy ordnance across the hall. Jessie ducked back behind the corner just in time. Barret didn’t stop firing – a few bullets grazed him, but the giant didn’t halt.

 _‘Idiot,’_ Cloud couldn’t help but be impressed at the big man’s audacity. The bullets from the gun-arm scattered sparks along the body of the machine, and Cloud crept around, out of the path, until the volley was done. 

Taking the cue, he brought the sword up to an ox stance, and threw his whole body at the machine’s backside. The blade thrust deep into the engine – a snap and a sudden ball of fire told him he’d won. 

The flames winked out in the air above the machine, but the sweeper was hemorrhaging gas. Cloud pulled the blade out and rolled for cover. A stack of crates shielded him from the shrapnel, but the force of the sweeper’s death explosion knocked the crates into him, sending him splaying onto the floor once again.

The sweeper’s feet stood, surrounded by scrap metal.

Cloud stood, putting the sword on his back. He breathed slowly, not allowing himself to show the toll the battle had taken.

Barret and Jessie crossed the hall towards Cloud and the ruined sweeper. Jessie was grinning, blood pumping through her neck. “Nothin’ to it!” She celebrated.

Cloud checked Barret for wounds.

“The hell you doin?”

“No entry wounds. You’re a lucky bastard.”

Barret shook his head, then lifted his gun-arm for Cloud to take a look. Nestled inside a materia slot, Barret’s gun-arm bore a magic crystal of its own. The materia carried a glow, like a dying lightbult after the power was cut. The last of its healing magic caused Barret’s wounds to scab and blister. He smirked down at Cloud. “It’ll take more than—”

“This will have drawn attention,” Cloud interrupted. “Let’s move.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, I did indeed painstakingly record my playthrough of FF7R and then make a comic strip that roughly correlates to my old novelization. Thank you for asking! :P


End file.
